Innocent Betrayal
by nisakeehl
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, Protector of Souls. He has lost an important soul, the soul of his future apprentice. As such an important angel, he must rescue this soul and then face the challenge of raising him. /Future USUK/


**Haaa I came back. Still probably not going to update other fics. I bet all of you were hoping for a fic update, but instead I'm dumping something new on you guys. Yeah I'm a piece of shit. Anyway, maybe I'll continue, maybe not. Send me your thoughts in the form of reviews. **

**I don't own Hetalia obviously**

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Collecting a soul is not supposed to be hard. Especially for such a high class angel, but even so here I am. So simple, just needed to pick it up, and I wasn't suspecting to be, well, stabbed. It was just a soul for fuck's sake, not something to _stab_ someone over. There was only one conclusion, and that was that Hell was having trouble keeping up with the demon population. Ah yes, how _sweet _that must be. I hope they're all crawling over each other for that damn soul. Not even a good soul, so the fact that the elders are pissed off is _not_ cool.

"Arthur Kirkland, High Protector of Souls. Do you have anything final to say for yourself?" The elder's voices mix together, making them a hell lot louder and a bit more terrifying. Okay, so I'm standing there giving them the best "piss off" look I can, and maybe I'm seconds away from flipping someone off. But dear _gods_, I shouldn't have to have a trial over one measly _soul._

"Yes, can someone please tell why this soul was so _damn i_mportant?" Ah yes, now I'm really managing to make things worse for myself. Just piss them all off of course, they're not going to do anything to _you_, oh mighty "High Protector of Souls".

"That soul, you impudent _brat_, was the soul of your _apprentice_." They all say together, and now I don't feel as cocky as before. Well shit then, I certainly made a mess of things. "Now that soul is held captive by Hell."

"Can I get it back?" I ask sheepishly, and manage to make the best "please don't tear off my wings" look. "It probably wouldn't even take that long."

"It's probably been corrupted already." An elder grunts from the corner of the room. "But I don't see why you can't try. He's _your_ fledgling after all." I feel my stomach drop and the sheepish frown turns into a scowl.

"If the soul was supposed to become the next Protector of Souls, then there's no way it's corrupted yet. It must be stronger than that." I argue in response, crossing my arms. My wings rustle behind me.

"We order you, as Protector of Souls, to reclaim this lost child." Their words are finalized, and rumble across and echo through the room. I bow stiffly before swinging around, muttering curses. That damn brat has caused me so much trouble already.

But even so I can't help but feel bad as I plunge off the clouds and head straight towards the depths of hell. Poor kid, supposed to be an angel, but now most likely half eaten. I can already predict his wings will be black from all the demons.

After a minute I see the ground approaching me, and let my wings fold open and with tremendous power lift myself back up. My wings are nothing special really, sort of a dirty caramel color. It doesn't even match my blonde hair, which others have given me such tremendous trouble over it that I've even _dyed_ them.

The entrance to Hell is hard to locate if you're not an angel, and trained to notice those kinds of things. New York is already a crowded place, so the happenings of humans finding it are very unlikely. The door is actually on one of the rooftops of the many apartments. The building is run down and only has three people living there, and none of them have ever noticed the door on the roof. Mainly because it's invisible, but forget humans.

The minute I get near it I can feel my nails turning black, and my wings fold into me until you can't even see them if you squinted. Another great thing about being a high level angel, you can change your appearance at will. So now my eyes are red, my hair the same color but slightly darker, and I have a scaly black tail. I tap at my newly grown fangs, and smile despite myself. Favorite things about demons; their wonderful fangs.

The door swings open when I'm a few feet away, welcomed by the smell of rot and the sweet stink of bodies. I flex my hands and easily hop through. I've been in Hell too many times, so much that it's like my second home. I might also have friends here, not that the elders will ever find out.

What a devilish angel I am, and I have no regrets. I land easily, brushing off my hands. The first level of Hell is the prettiest by far, with bare grey walls and carpeted royal blue really adds to it. The only thing there is a desk with a skeleton behind it, only to scare off people though.

I huff as I walk by it, the plastic bones glaring in the light. I hear rumbles below me, probably newly formed demons trying to make their way deeper into hell. Of course what they don't know is that the minute they reach the next floor they'll burn for all eternity.

I bypass the obvious stairs, going deeper into the hall towards the shadows. An elevator forms as I come closer, and it opens with a grainy _ding_. I step in, looking around in feigned interest. Maybe new carpet was put in; you never know what Lucifer feels like each day. I press on the button with the circle, aka the room of souls. This is so easy I could cry, but instead I hold back my smirks.

The only problem I expect to face is actually passing the guard and convincing him that I am _not_, thank you, stealing a soul. The name "Arthur Kirkland" can scare some, but if it's a new guard and not the old one then I may actually have to put forth some effort.

When the doors screech open I prepare myself, putting on the best "important" look I can manage. Not that hard I suppose, since I'm pretty damn important. I stride forward, looking around the cavernous room before I spot the small soul.

Each soul has a distinctive smell and taste, so picking out the child from all the rest is generally easy. It sits up at the top, and thankfully only a little bit tarnished. Not that bad I suppose, for a corrupted soul.

"Who enters?" The wall seems to ask, and my thoughts of an easy escape fly away. The voice is certainly not Ludwig, the old guard. Maybe he's dead, maybe not. The new voice is high pitched and just reeks of newbie.

"Arthur Kirkland sent to fetch a soul for his Lord Lucifer." I drawl, picking my way across the room. The demon has yet to appear yet, so currently he doesn't view me as a threat.

"I've never heard of an Arthur Kirkland." The walls rumble, and I roll my eyes.

"You must be new and stupid then." I say in a clipped tone, pushing aside souls and managing to grab the small soul. I curl my lip when the walls rumble again. I turn around to meet the gaze of a man with dark blue eyes and red hair. Oh, so not new then. Only really super important demons have those deep blue eyes. I inwardly curse myself for not making my eyes blue.

"Or not?" I try, but the other demon was already reaching for his weapon. I almost pouted, not wanting to have to blow my cover. Now I'll never be able to come back down here with my friends. Ah well, innocent child to save. In a second my disguise is shed, and I'm spreading my wings. I even make my eyes glow to add to the affect.

In a second I'm out of the room, the soul clutched to my chest. I hear the demon screeching behind me, but pay him not mind.

"Forget the elevator." I mutter to myself, and I head straight towards the ceiling. It shatters like glass, and I pass multiple levels of burning and suffering souls and demons. They cry out for help, but I just wave my hand at them, as in to say, "_ah yes sorry, you're soul isn't on the agenda to save_."

Finally I'm bursting out into the sky, free of that horrible smelling place. I soar to the heavens, feeling a bit less bored. Now at least I have someone to talk to, even if that person is still a blubbering child. The heaven's gate opens to me, and I release the now glowing soul from my grasp. I lazily flitter next to it, wanting to watch the transformation that I've seen so many times.

The soul bops and pops in the wind, floating on the breeze all the way to the Top Hill. This is the place angels are born, and the most sheltered place in the universe. Young fledglings grow up here, go to school, and basically live a human, but angel life.

It will take five minutes for the soul to grow. I'm half excited, hoping that the demons touch hasn't deformed it _too_ badly. I notice the elders as I pass by, all of them nodding in approval. At least I'm not in trouble anymore. The place where I was stabbed aches, even though it healed hours ago.

When the soul comes to a stop I sit among the now growing crowd of mother angels. They all look at each other hopefully; wondering if this will be their child. A mother angel is in charge of raising young angels, and has up to six angels to raise. Then they move on and are recycled into a new angel.

I feel weird about it and the growing need to tell them to go away, because this angel is_ mine_. I saved it, so why not raise it as well? But the soul always chooses its mother, and there's nothing I can do. Now I'm a bit bitter, because I'm now looking forward to having someone look up to me.

After three minutes the soul breaks, and the mothers around me all coo in anticipation. I roll my eyes and scowl, shooting the one nearest to me a glare. I smell innocence, and when I look back at the soul it's now a fully formed angel.

I can't breathe dammit. He's just… lovely. His small face, the long lashes, and the golden hair. It's a bit too much, and I feel my heart clench. _Mine_, I want to yell. When his eyes open it's like looking at the sky, such a beautiful blue that the mothers fall silent.

Then his wings unfold.

Black, just like I said. Pure black ivory, like silk. I hear some gasps and murmurs, but for me it makes him even lovelier. He looks around in child-like confusion before his face lights up in the brightest smile I've ever seen.

He's about to choose someone, and my heart sinks and I want to either cry or scream. Let it be the best woman, because he deserves someone perfect. But when he looks right at me my eyes widen, and a bit of hope starts to sprout. His blue eyes flash, and when he leaps into my arms I'm most likely crying.

"You smell good." He whispers, his face pressed against my chest. I'm not breathing, because this child just chose me, Arthur Kirkland. The coldest, meanest angel in heaven. And all I see in his face is well, love. It makes me seem like a better person, and I start to believe it.

"He chose you then. Hasn't happened in thousands of years, but not impossible." The head mother says to me, and I look up in shock. So this is okay? I can actually raise him, and now he's mine?

So in response I give her a real smile, and she just affectionately pats me on the head.

"Raising you was hard, but at least I raised you well." She says gruffly. "What will you call him?"

"Alfred, I think." I look back down at the now sleeping angel, who won't awake for another week. "Alfred Jones is a good name."

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**... so again, send me your thoughts. It's rated M for later smut, and I'll only continue if I'm interested, or you guys are interested**

**-Nisa**


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